


thank you for making me feel

by orphan_account



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/F, feel free to send requests please, mind farts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23461438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a collection of tiny twice drabbles. feel free to send requests.
Relationships: Chou Tzuyu/Son Chaeyoung, Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon, Minatozaki Sana/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. apologize; chaeyu

Chaeyoung looked at Tzuyu, and Tzuyu was staring at her with some sort of concern and contrite mixed together.

She wanted to say something, but she was scared that if she did, Tzuyu would disappear. Looking for Tzuyu was like chasing water droplets, those that she would stare out the window on a rainy day. Tzuyu would be here one second, and gone the next. And there’s no one to blame for it.

But really, it’s nobody’s fault. People leave, and that’s alright. Chaeyoung knew this, but she felt like if she didn’t say anything, the thoughts and the secrets inside her would eat her up.

“It’s hard, you know,” Chaeyoung whispered.

“What is?”

Chaeyoung wouldn’t look at Tzuyu, because she didn’t want to see that expression of pity again. It felt unfair how it would take her minutes to muster a response up– anything– yet, with Tzuyu… Tzuyu was always sure.

Yet, Chaeyoung didn’t even have anything to say. Or maybe she did.

“I’ve texted you the past few days,” Chaeyoung said. There’s a knot in her head she can’t untie, because would be dangerous if she did. She pursed her lips into a straight line. Tzuyu continued to stare at her, quiet, because she knew Chaeyoung still had something to say. “–and, you don’t have to reply, okay, it’s just--”

It was getting late. Tzuyu had unexpectedly visited Chaeyoung this Saturday afternoon to say hello, but none of them expected this, whatever this is, now, in Chaeyoung’s tiny kitchen.

Tzuyu rested her elbows on her knees. She continued staring at Chaeyoung intently. “Just what?”

“It’s hard. Getting a hold of you is hard. And that’s alright, you know–” Tzuyu held out her hand, placed it on Chaeyoung’s knee. Chaeyoung flinched. “I just missed you. That’s all.”

Tzuyu retracted her hand. She stared at the floor.

There were times like this between Tzuyu and Chaeyoung, millions of them. There had been awkward times, joyful times, but somehow it feels that through the extent of memories they’ve shared– and somehow traversed together– there was no looking back. And it was now strange to describe such a dynamic as “friendship”, because they both knew it was something that transcended their relationship. It was no longer something between them, because now it was like breathing the same air, sharing the same body sometimes. _Could we really exist in the same time, and the same place?_ Chaeyoung asked Tzuyu once. _Because I know you more than you know you; you know me more than I know me._

“No,” Tzuyu dejectedly said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for… what?” Chaeyoung’s voice faltered.

Tzuyu wanted to say why she was apologizing. Chaeyoung knew why, but she knew Tzuyu wasn’t allowed to say it. Tzuyu can’t say it, even if she wants to, so Chaeyoung will do it for her.

“You didn’t tell me about your engagement.” Chaeyoung said. She stared at the ring on Tzuyu’s finger. Shiny and thin with glittering diamonds embedded on it. But somehow, at this moment, it was nothing but dull. Thousands of dollars for a pointless and bleak diamond carving.

“You’re right.” Tzuyu traced the lines on her ring she knew Chaeyoung was staring at. “I didn’t,”

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung sighed. She looked at the ceiling. She once read somewhere that looking up was good if you wanted to cry. It was good because your tears wouldn’t fall. That was kind of funny: gravitational basins for eye sockets. “you didn’t,”

“I’m sorry.”

Chaeyoung laughed a bit. “Why are you sorry?” She asked. Maybe sometimes it was fun to be selfish. She knew why Tzuyu was sorry; of course she did. Maybe she just wanted to hear it. _I’m sorry, for that night before I left for Taiwan,_ or, _I’m sorry because I actually love you, and have loved you all these years, but I can’t have you, so I’ve been keeping you around for my own convenience. Right?_

“Because, Chaeyoung,” Tzuyu gulped. “I don’t know what I want.”


	2. stay; 2yeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongyeon's roommate is really loud, and Nayeon hates her boss. 2yeon roommates au

“My boss hates me!” Nayeon yells, scurrying through the stairs before forcefully swinging her apartment door open, “I swear, there’s Chaeyoung, who sits there texting God knows who all day long, but  _ I _ have to do  _ everything! _ ” 

Jeongyeon follows suit and enters the apartment a few seconds after; it doesn’t matter whether she’s listened to Nayeon squabble about the long day of work she’s just had to experience. From the tone of Nayeon’s voice, and the disheveled look of her office blazer (and her hair, and her makeup, and pretty much everything that’s supposedly to make you look acceptable in the corporate world), Jeongyeon’s pretty sure she’s sorted the situation out. Besides, this isn’t the first time Nayeon’s complained about her boss. (Jeongyeon thinks her name might be Park Jihyo - or something.) 

“Yeah, your boss probably hates you,” Jeongyeon says monotonously. She takes her time taking her shoes off before proceeding to their living room. “You don’t deserve that, though. I think.” 

“Damn right I don’t!” Nayeon huffs. “Does she know, that there’s just so, so, much I can do in a day! God, Jihyo’s hor–”

“No shoes in the living room, Nayeon.” 

Nayeon flinches with confusion before she looks down at her feet. “Huh? Oh - oh right.” Nayeon lets out a sound similar to a moan when she bends down to take them off. “Anyways - Jihyo is horrible! She’s a great boss, and she cares about me, but this - the unfair distribution of workload - is really, really horrible!”

“Mhmmm,” Jeongyeon hums in agreement (or what Nayeon likes to believe.) “Want a cup of hot cocoa? Feel like it went below zero today.”

Nayeon lets out a moan. “God, yes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


It feels incredibly great to lie in the comfort of bed covers to get rid of exhaustion. Both Nayeon and Jeongyeon can attest to that. But this, tonight, is different from other nights. Today was particularly cold, and Nayeon had insisted to sleep in Jeongyeon’s bed for the night.

“So how was your day, Jeongyeon?” 

Jeongyeon can’t really see Nayeon like this, in the absolute midnight dark where it’s difficult to decipher whether your eyelids are closed shut or not. She can’t even see the silhouette of her palm in front of her face in a nonchalant attempt to examine her fingernails. The faint neon lights of Seoul barely make their way to the windows of their shared apartment.

“Great, I guess. Another day of feigning excitement over the prospect of closing a business deal with some large scale company.” Jeongyeon scrunches her nose, “I’ve just - passed the point of caring, you know? Not that I don’t see the point, but, I have everything I want… You could serve me a stash of a million dollars on a silver plate and I still wouldn’t care... much.” Jeongyeon lets out a heavy exhale, as if she’s been wanting to properly convey these thoughts for years. “So, I’m just sick of it, I guess. I see the point of all this, but I’m tired out it. I don’t even know if I want out.” 

Nayeon bites her lip thoughtfully. “You don’t deserve that.” 

Jeongyeon bitterly chuckles. Yeah, that’s what she told Nayeon earlier, alright. “You really mean it, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jeongyeon doesn’t say anything for a while. (If it’s because she’s at a loss for words, or she doesn’t really have anything to say, Jeongyeon doesn’t know either.)

There’s a heavy kind of air hanging at the long pause of their conversation, until Nayeon first asks, thoughtfully, “...then what do you really want?”

Jeongyeon finally replies. Without hesitation.

"You."

Jeongyeon doesn’t dare expect anything at this point. Maybe Nayeon would get out of their shared covers in a rush, in disgust. Or maybe Nayeon would want to call the landlord, tell him she’s moving out the next day. Jeongyeon imagines Nayeon frantically throwing herself off the bed, kicking off her covers and running to the window in a panic; she’ll open it and throw herself off the 8th floor they’re on right now, Fuck you, Yoo Jeongyeon! vile and disgusting piece of shit!, Nayeon would scream throughout the course of her freefall. It’s kind of funny, and Jeongyeon chuckles - until she realizes it’s plausible. (but no, not really. Nayeon would never speak such words.)

  
  


“Jeongyeon...” Nayeon bites her lip in confusion. “Are you… are you sure about this?”

  
  


“Maybe in the morning you’ll forget this, but I won’t. I’ve kept this in far too long already - and please, Nayeon, I beg of you - if you’re not going to give me what I want, you might as well just…” Jeongyeon pauses. She doesn’t really want to say this, but she knows it’s for the best. “You might as well just leave.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


But the next morning, Nayeon doesn’t forget, and Nayeon definitely doesn’t leave. Jeongyeon almost can’t believe what she’s seeing right now - the sleeping figure of the woman she’s always loved - who has chosen to stay with her.

“Nayeon?” 

Nayeon slowly opens her eyes, and smiles at Jeongyeon. “You told me to leave if I wasn’t going to be with you. So I stayed, and now I’m still right here. Because I’m never going to leave.” 

And Jeongyeon smiled too, because that smile was so Nayeon, bathed in sunshine and purity. It would always be that smile that Jeongyeon sought in hurt, and in comfort, and it would always be Nayeon whom she would always loved.

And Nayeon pulls Jeongyeon - naive and unbelieving Jeongyeon - by the neck, and kisses her behind her ear. She didn't have to say anything more. 

  
  
  



	3. see to believe; jeongsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongyeon is thinking about a past lover.

There’s something oddly sinister about an empty, yet well lit road. It’s a passing thought that enters Jeongyeon’s mind-- among other things-- when she looks at her neighborhood from her window sill. 

The moon is shining bright tonight, and Jeongyeon stares at it for no other reason than it being pretty. It’s fitting, looking at the moon when it seems that you have the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. Perhaps it’s out of basic instinct; the moon does have a surrounding magnetic force, maybe it’ll lift the weight off of Jeongyeon’s back? 

Jeongyeon laughs at the silly thought, but her laughter is soon cut off. 

The moon. 

It’s embarrassingly cliche, but now she’s thinking of Sana. An ex, her  _ only _ ex. Although Jeongyeon doesn’t really like calling her that because it gives off the impression of dispensability. Not that she isn’t over Sana-- or at least she  _ thinks _ over her-- but there’s something remarkably unforgettable about her first loves. An  _ ex  _ sounds fleeting, like it wasn’t meant to be, but lovers imply that a mark has been made on each of their lives. Jeongyeon likes to refer to Sana as a past lover. 

( _ Refer,  _ and not  _ call,  _ because it’s not like Jeongyeon can  _ call  _ her that, anyway. They haven’t talked for a year and five months. Not like Jeongyeon is counting, though...)

Her past lover-- her  _ first  _ lover: and tonight, Jeongyeon will admit she misses her. Tonight, she’ll stop grappling with the fact that nostalgia is deceitfully seductive. It’s difficult having to remind herself that everytime Sana comes to mind. 

A tear, and now two, slides down Jeongyeon’s cheek. It’s okay. She’s used to crying, and she doesn’t feel embarrassingly juvenile about doing so anymore. And it’s okay to cry, especially alone, because she should be happy for Sana, right? 

She overheard Nayeon and Jihyo talking about it once, amazed at how Sana had moved on so quickly. Apparently, she’s with another girl named Momo, but Jeongyeon’s eavesdropping was cut short when they had realized she was near. 

Jeongyeon looks down the previously empty road. There’s now somebody there.

_ Is that Sana…?  _

Jeongyeon stares at the figure. Jeongyeon can’t possibly be dreaming, right? Sana’s there, looking at an old tree less than a meter from Jeongyeon’s apartment. She has a face mask on but Jeongyeon perfectly recognizes her. Jeongyeon can feel her heart almost beating out of her chest, staring at Sana. 

Should she call her up? Invite her for a little chat? Greet her? Say hello? Jeongyeon had rehearsed all those invitations in her head for the past few months, but now that she’s here, it’s difficult to breathe, and let alone, think. 

She misses Sana, that’s why. 

The truthful admission pierces something within Jeongyeon, and a few more tears burst out her eyes. She buries her face in her palm in an attempt to calm down. 

She should be okay, and this should be okay. 

She knows what to do now. She successfully lifts her head and looks down her window again.

Sana is gone.


End file.
